Three Generations
by AidennPluto
Summary: It took three generations, but when all prejudices and petty disputes end, a Potter finally accepts to shake a Malfoy's hand. James and Lucius would be devestated.


**A/N:** I've had this idea in my mind for a while now. Makes me sniffle and smile.

**Disclaimer:** If I were J.K. Rowling, Snape would actually have some sort of closure.

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There had been a time when the Potters and the Malfoys were competing families. They were both powerful, pureblood families, with a long history behind them and plenty of ancestors who had awed the Wizarding world and brought fame to their name. They had many of the same visions; promoting wizardry, creating strong alliances in case enemies rallied their forces against them. They only had different ways of going about these alliances.

The Malfoys firmly believed that they should unite against muggles; to separate themselves from their radius of influence in order to prosper as 'true', pure wizards. The Potters on the other hand, (while they didn't think they should spill all their secrets to the muggles and try to become best chums with them), believed that muggles were as much a part of their world as much as magical creatures were.

Potters saw muggles as pitiful animals, who could not contribute to their world, but who should be protected. It was a view similar to the "White Man's Burden" of 18th century Africa, yet they supported muggles, and that's the important thing.

The competition extended far beyond the adults and political issues; young Malfoys and Potters were taught from an early age that their families were competing as top Wizarding families, and the very future may depend on which family came out on top. James and Lucius took these teachings to heart.

At eleven years old, James Potter waved out the open window of the Hogwarts Express at his parents, a huge smile on his face. Finally, _finally, _he was going to Hogwarts. He would learn how do be an amazing wizard, just like his parents and grandparents, and the rest of his ancestors. He believed he would uphold the family honor. Because little James had never suffered from low self-esteem. Quite the opposite, really.

He met a young boy named Sirius, with whom he instantly struck up a comradeship. They bonded over the most brilliant game in the world: Exploding Snap. They renamed the game "Exploding Snape" after meeting the dark, malnourished-looking, pathetic and ill-tempered boy named Severus Snape.

They shared a compartment with a tiny boy with amber eyes and sandy-colored hair. His name was Remus Lupin, but they ignored him for the most part, until he offered a new strategy for the game they were playing. James appreciated intelligence, and decided to try to be friends with this nameless little runt.

James was laughing, holding on to his stomach as the cards exploded all over Sirius. It was then that the compartment door opened and a tall boy with white-blond hair and gray eyes came in. He wore a badge pinned on his black robes – one that identified him as a fifth-year prefect. He took in the three occupants of the compartment and sneered.

"Sirius, dear friend, you should not be sitting with this scum. That pathetic sack of raggedy robes is not even worthy of licking your shoes clean."

James glanced at Remus and felt a sharp stab of fury for the blond boy as Remus flushed and looked down at his hands in shame.

"And do you even know who that is?" Malfoy continued. "He's a Potter, and he stands for everything our honorable families detest. Your parents would not be happy to hear that their son, a respectable Black, spent his time with vermin such as this."

James glanced quickly at Sirius, and was shocked when he didn't deny being a Black. The Blacks were right up there with the Malfoys. But Sirius just sneered back at the blond boy.

"Shove off, Malfoy. Who I spend my time with is none of your business!"

"My, my, Sirius," Lucius said with a twisted smirk. "Such venom. You should be careful. You wouldn't want to end up in detention on your first night at Hogwarts." He tapped his silver badge.

"Get out Malfoy," James hissed, before Sirius could come up with the insults to make Lucius' ears bleed.

Lucius' cold, gray eyes flashed over to James, and his smirk disappeared. "Little Potter. I've heard so much about you. Father has heard of how proud your parents are of you. Apparently they believe you will grow up to be a saint, and the most powerful Potter yet."

"Too true I will," James snapped. "So you'd better watch your back.

Lucius smiled then, a slick, sweet smile full of poison. "Let's not fight, Little Potter. After all, we can be enemies without the open hostility, and you will find that in Hogwarts, that's the smart course of action. Truce?" he offered, extending his hand toward James.

Sirius snarled angrily from James' left. James glanced back at Remus, but the young boy wouldn't meet his eyes. His shoulder's slumped, as though he were trying to make himself as small as possible. James turned back to Lucius and eyed his hand distastefully.

James peered through his glasses at the blond prefect with a hard gaze. All the things that he was told about the Malfoys, all the hate he felt for this boy for belittling Remus and trying to make enemies of him and Sirius – it was all in that glare.

"Sod off, Malfoy. No Potter will ever shake hands with a Malfoy, you mark my words."

Lucius frowned, and retracted his hand. With a snarl, he turned around on his heel, black robes billowing around him. "You'll come to regret this, Little Potter," he said before leaving the compartment.

The silence was uncomfortable, before Remus uttered a small 'thank you', and all three of them went back to the game.

They laughed, but none of them forgot what had happened. It was like a rift had formed between them already: Lupin, the sickly-looking boy with no connections to his name, James, a new generation of the Potters, and Sirius, the Potters' enemy by nature. But Sirius shunned his name, and stuck with James and Remus, and that was enough for now.

If there was one thing James was sure of, however, it was that he'd been right: no Potter would ever shake the hand of a Malfoy.

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It turned out that both the Potters and the Malfoys had been wrong to believe that the downfall of one family would mean the beginning of the dominance period for the other family, because this dominance was determined by factors beyond their control. James lay in the ground, next to his wife, with nothing left of his legacy in the world but a thin boy who didn't even know he was a wizard. How could he carry on the Potter name and represent what it stood for when he thought magic meant pulling a hat out of a hat?

So he boarded the Hogwarts Express at eleven, with a great deal more innocence than his father had. He didn't know he was supposed to hate the Malfoys. Draco, on the other hand, grew up amidst talk of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. His father would tell him stories about the once proud Potter family and how it failed because of their struggle to protect muggles and muggleborns. His father was so obsessed sometimes with Harry Potter, the one who had brought the downfall of the one wizard who could have saved them all from extinction. Draco learned to hate this boy, for bringing such a fierce light into his father's eyes, when nothing Draco ever did brought anything more than gruff acceptance and a demand to do better.

He wanted to hate this boy. He wanted to hate him so much, and he was looking forward to meeting him in order to prove to his father he was better. But what pleasure can one get from proving oneself better than someone who seems so unworthy. He knew nothing of the world he was born to; he was practically muggle himself. How can you hate someone who can't even understand why you hate him?

Draco couldn't hate Harry, at least not at first. His father demanded that he befriend the boy, for the Boy-Who-Lived might one day become a powerful ally. So he made a show of boasting his superiority, trying to get Harry to see the benefits of befriending him. But the Weasley boy ruined everything, unknowingly setting events in motion that would change the world.

Weasley humiliated him. He dared laugh at his name, the name of the son of a well-respected family, among the most powerful in the Wizarding World. He dared humiliate him in front of Harry Potter.

"Think my name is funny, do you?" he snarled, gray eyes flashing with malice. "No need for me to ask for yours. Red hair, freckles, and a hand-me-down robe. You must be a Weasley!"

Draco felt a stab of vindication as Ron flushed angrily and cracked his knuckles. He turned to face Harry and gave him the greatest piece of wisdom his father had ever given him.

"You'll soon find out that some Wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." And just as Father had ordered, Draco offered his hand to Harry Potter.

But Harry only stared at it with wide, green eyes, nearly obscured by his jet-black, unruly hair. He knew nothing of the types of Wizarding families out there, but he trusted his heart more than anything, because it was the only thing that had kept him going through the dark years of his childhood. He didn't know Weasley or Malfoy, but he did know Ron and Draco.

There was a coolness in Harry's eyes as he met Draco's that was very rarely there. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

He couldn't make the same declaration as his father had, years ago, when offered the hand of a Malfoy. He couldn't say that a Potter would never shake hands with a Malfoy, because he didn't know of the families' histories. But nevertheless, family feud or not, it seemed that James Potter had been right.

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By the time Harry Potter had left Hogwarts, he'd defeated the Dark Lord. Many lives had been lost during the war, but the hope for a new future shined brightly. The Malfoys had steadily lost all of their power, first when Lucius was sent to Azkaban, then when their idol, Voldemort, fell. This fall humbled Draco Malfoy. Now, the fame fell on Harry Potter, the hero of the Wizarding world.

Harry Potter had won, but not on behalf of the Potters. He won on behalf of the Wizarding race. He had his own ideas that were not influenced by his ancestors (like James' had been) because he knew nothing of his ancestors. His rise to fame was of his own doing.

The Potter family name lay in the dust, as did the Malfoy family name. They no longer had any power. Yet both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy lived. And soon, Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Albus knew that Uncle Ron didn't like the blond man at the train station. Scorpius knew that his father didn't worship Harry Potter like everyone else did. But that was the extent of their knowledge of the Malfoys and the Potters. They boarded the train with no preconceived notions about each other, and petty pride didn't control their actions.

Albus and Rose were sitting in a compartment by themselves. James had gone off with his friends, leaving Rose with a huge book named "Hogwarts a History" on her lap, and Albus bored out of his wits.

They compartment door slid open, and a blond boy with gray eyes peered in. He seemed to recognize the occupants of the compartment and flushed slightly. "You mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

Rose hummed noncommittally, without glancing up from her book. Albus, on the other hand, looked at him and shrugged. Scorpius hauled his trunk inside, and between the two of them, Albus and Scorpius managed to heave it on the overhead shelf.

"I'm Scorpius, by the way. And if you laugh at my name I will hex you the instant I learn a good one."

Albus grinned. " 'Scorpius' at least is unique. My name is Albus Severus."

Scorpius winced. "After the last two headmasters? You parents must have been in love with them."

"Probably. Call me Al."

"Al. Nice to meet you."

And Scorpius offered Albus his hand with a smile, just as his father and grandfather had so long ago. But unlike Draco and Lucius, there were no ulterior motives behind his actions. His smile was genuine, not a smirk of a haughty quirk of the lips. It was just a friendly smile.

It had taken three generations of wars and fights to get where they were today. But no matter how long it had taken, James Potter was proven wrong. _No Potter would ever shake the hand of a Malfoy. _But on that day on the Hogwarts Express, a Malfoy offered a Potter his hand, and a Potter accepted.

Al and Scorpius shook hands briefly, unaware of how powerful the moment was. Al pulled out a stack of cards, and the two started playing Exploding Snap. Since then, they never once in their lives called it Exploding _Snape_.

James and Lucius were probably rolling in their graves. Harry and Draco faced their sons' ironic friendship with amused resignation. The Potters and the Malfoys were no more. It was just _a_ Potter and _a_ Malfoy, and they grew up to be as close as James and Sirius, as Harry and Ron.

Who would have thought?

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**A/N:** I just love the idea of two generations of a rejected handshake until all prejudices were washed away. I personally think that Scorpius and Albus would be great friends at Hogwarts.

Review?


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